Our Father

One of the most powerful things Jesus ever said was not wrapped in thunder or veiled in mystery—it was wrapped in love. It was when He looked into the longing eyes of His disciples and taught them to pray—not to a distant deity, not to a faceless force—but to Our Father.

Let that settle in your spirit.

He didn’t say “the Almighty Ruler,” though He is.

He didn’t say “the Sovereign Judge,” though He reigns with justice.

He said Father.

Not a Father. Not the Father.

Our Father.

Those two little words tear through centuries of separation.

They dismantle walls built by religion, fear, shame, and striving.

They silence the voice of the orphan spirit and whisper, “You belong.”

Jesus, with divine tenderness, reached into the aching heart of humanity and placed the most sacred word in our mouths: Abba.

He gave us access, not through ritual, but through relationship.

Not through merit, but through mercy.

Our Father—a phrase so familiar it risks being overlooked, yet so holy it echoes in eternity.

It’s personal. It’s possessive. It’s intimate.

It speaks of belonging, of home, of identity.

When you whisper Our Father, heaven hears the cry of a child who knows they are loved.

The veil tears again in your spirit.

The enemy trembles—not because you pray loud, but because you pray as a child who knows they’re His.

You are not forgotten. You are not forsaken. You are not alone.

In a world that tries to define you by your failures, your status, or your scars—Jesus defines you by your Father.

So when your heart is heavy, say it.

When you feel unworthy, say it.

When joy bubbles over or grief grips you by the throat—say it.

Our Father.

Let it be your anthem.

Let it be your comfort.

Let it be your home.

Because in those two words lives the gospel.

In those two words lives healing.

In those two words lives the wonder that the God of galaxies has chosen you to be His own.

Our Father—forever holy, forever near.